April 13, 2015

Revolving doors and closed doors

I used to blog and never think twice if I had pictures to post or not. And now I feel like I can't blog if I don't have any pictures to go with a post. So I just squeaked by for two weeks not posting because - no pictures.

But in all honesty, things have been sort of a revolving door in our house as of late, and I kind of feel like I don't even know what happened these last six weeks. Not really busy - because anything resembling remotely busy makes me stressed. I just don't have the energy for it. So I don't really know what it is that sums up these last coupling of weeks, but I feel like I'm running on a hamster wheel that is constantly printing out a to do list that I just can't keep up with. To all of you who I owe thank you's and letters, and returns, and extra favors - I'm terribly sorry and I'm still terribly behind.

And it's a bit alarming knowing things are going to get worse before they get any better. If you could see our calender you'd notice the nice game of cat and mouse Brian and I have going of who will be home and who will be running to catch the next plane for the next two months.

And amid all this sits a house on the market that we've been very eagerly and yet nonchalantly trying to buy. It seems to be a bit tied up in legalities and paperwork, and for the life of us we can't quite figure out what is going on with it.

After weeks of trying to sort it out to no avail, we went back to visit just to make sure we weren't romanticizing the place. We weren't. It took all but Judah running to his hearts content in the back yard to realize how much I could see us here. An open shelved kitchen, a garden in the back, a small workshop off to the side, and a dog that sleeps in the little barn. It's a quaint little place. Simple. But beautiful.

I wouldn't even say we're really wanting a house of our own - as in it isn't our goal to just own a home. But we do want this home. It's a funny thing to be able to see something that fits you so well, and yet have to hold it with open hands because it really isn't yours to begin with (and very well might never be). I suppose that's the truth with all things in life, but I can see it so clearly in this instance. Just thinking of this home makes my heart happy and I could see our little family thriving here, and yet there's no way of knowing if it's ever going to get untangled from it's tangled web weaved of paperwork - or whatever it is that's holding it captive.

I've had friend's say it's quite the practice of patience we're going through, and maybe that's so, but I think in the end - I was happy not having that house, and I know I can still be happy not having it. In a way I like the in between of not knowing because there's at least a small hope that lives in that place. And eventually we'll either move in or move on, and everything will be done and said. But until then I'll be dreaming of this little place I'd like to call home and hoping we can hold these next two months together.